


The Conversations of Women

by Aycelcus



Category: Strangers in Paradise
Genre: Humor, Longish Drabble., Multi, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aycelcus/pseuds/Aycelcus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be a fly on the wall, or the waitress at the restaurant. Cute and Plotless, and set long past the epilogue. A sort-of glimpse into the future, which is canon for Terry Moore if you think about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Conversations of Women

**Author's Note:**

  * For [were_duck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/were_duck/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I own nothing but a bunch of SiP comics and a neat signed bookmark. I'm just playing with them for a drabblish story moment. I hope you enjoy this, were-duck. I lost the plot in the mail, but the dialogue arrived on time, and was helpfully poked at by my beta. Props to my roommate for being my beta.

Scenes from a Restaurant:

The sounds of laughter spill out from the patio of the small restaurant. It's an unexpectedly warm day in New Mexico, early spring sun casting shadows across the courtyard where wrought iron tables are pulled close. The young waitress steps nimbly around them, taking orders and serving drinks to the customers out on the patio.

Sitting around the impromptu configuration of tables is a small gathering of women. They are young and old and in-between, and they are laughing and chatting over beer and soda and chips and salsa.

Seated in the center is a pair of older women, looking to be in their late fifties or early sixties. The taller of the two is mostly grey-haired now, peppered here and there with memories of a pretty brunette shade. It's been carefully pulled into a neat bun, and the face below is warm and full of gentle smile lines. She smiles most widely at the woman to her left, who is shorter and thinner and blonder, and whose hand drifts often to clasp her partner's. The two women lean into each other, radiating long years of companionship and love.

The waitress comes back, laying down hot platters of enchiladas and tamales and chilies rancheros. She has worked at this restaurant for a few years now, and has seen this gathering before. She smiles at the familiar faces. Other, older wait-staff have mentioned that these women have been coming for many years. There isn't a set time or amount: some years there are many more gathered, and some years there are only a few. But it is obvious the thread of family that ties them together, these women and their loves and their lives and their children.

The waitress's name is Maria, and she lays a plate of fajitas down in front of a giggling, still-blonde older woman who is playfully slapping at the shoulder of her companion. "Tambi! I don't think that's what Ashley meant!" Tambi, whose short hair is very grey and whose face is lined with deep wrinkles about the eyes and whose hands are lined with scars, grunts and rolls her eyes.

Ashley, sitting next to the pair, takes a chip and breaks it in two, tossing the smaller bit at Tambi. "I certainly did not mean it like that. You both are a horrible influence." Next to Ashley is a smaller, freckled red-haired girl who steals the entire basket of chips and remarks loudly, "On you? A bit pot and kettle, don't you think?"

"Koo!" Ashley tries to retrieve the chips. Koo giggles and scoots her chair over, leaning into another young woman, this one faintly Asian in feature. "Save me, Emmie, save me!" Emma snorts and pushes her back over. "You date her, you deal with her."

"But she's your sist- ack!" And Koo tumbles back into Ashley's arms as the basket of chips goes flying, landing on Tambi's plate and spilling all over Tambi and Casey. Tambi makes a shocked, angry noise as Casey shrieks and glares, trying to pull bits of chips off of them. Emma rolls her eyes. "Moooooooom. Your other daughter is being weird again."

Back at the center of the tables, the two women pull out of a whispered remark to look up. "You two are adults. I'm certain you can work it out for yourselves."

"Oh yes," Tambi growls as Casey pulls chips out of her hair and Ashley and Koo look bashful. "That will work." Across the table a thin woman laughs and attempts to keep a toddler in pigtails from reaching for the other basket of chips, obviously intent on trying the throwing bit out as well. She distracts the little girl, who is adorable and pudgy and covered in salsa, and has her eat a bit more of her taco.

"It could be worse, -no, eat this. We don't throw- like I was saying, it could be worse. Some of the stories I've heard about all of you make being silly with some chips at a restaurant seem awfully tame in comparison…"

"I don't know what you are talking about." Says Katchoo. "We did nothing weird or interesting at all. Ever. Well… I didn't. Francine had a habit of taking her clothes off in public…"

"Katchoo!" Francine frowned. Pia giggles as she tries to get more taco into her daughter as opposed to on her. "I remember hearing about that one, actually." Ashley and Koo perk up, and Emma takes a swig of her beer. "We've ALL heard about that one." Francine blushes.

"As I recall, I wasn't the only one. Casey?"

Casey picks another chip out of Tambi's hair. "That wasn't in public, that was in your apartment, thank you very much. And there were extenuating circumstances." Tambi waves Casey's hands away irritably. "With you, there are always extenuating circumstances." Casey blinks and grins sheepishly. "I seem to recall you enjoying a few of those extenuating circumstances quite a bit."

Ashley coughs and Koo snags a tamale. "What about that book you're working on, Ash? Haven't you been writing down all of your moms' stories anyways? I bet now would be a great time to hear some more of those stories, right? Maybe about Emmie's dad? An' there are all those crazy stories about the Parkers and your old lawyer-boyfriend. What was his name, Mama Francine?"

"Freddie. He wasn't a lawyer then, just an annoying deadbeat with a small pr-" Katchoo stops as Francine slaps her hand on her mouth and finishes the sentence. "He was not that bad. And I didn't marry him. That honor belongs to Casey."

"Technically, I didn't, either. But he was always obsessed with you. Remember how hard it was to get back your bikini? I remember how pissed off that cop was!"

"I remember how pissed off Francine was."

"I remember Freddie the clown. That was satisfying. Wonderfully, fantastically satisfying." Katchoo grins, closing her eyes. Ashley reaches around into her purse, pulling out a battered notebook.

"Wait, wait! I haven't heard all of this one! I need to write it down! When did this happen?"

Katchoo grins, and nudges Francine. "Well, funny enough, this was around the time Francine got all publicly naked, so we might as well tell it in order. She had been dating him for about a year, and had this rule, you see, about sex…."

Maria makes it around for another round of drinks as Francine dissembles and cuts in, and the two women at the center of the gathering begin to tell another tale, one that is familiar to some of the women there, new to a few, and punctuated by comments and snorts and jokes. Maria leaves the check as the story turns to others, and goes back to her station. One of the other waitresses nods and smiles at her. "You got the party, I see. I've served them before; they are awesome. Did you know that one over there is Katchoo, the famous artist? "

"Is she? Wow."

"Oh yeah. That woman next to her is her wife, they're actually pretty well known around here. I'm surprised you've not seen at least Francine's face before. She was a model for a lot of Katchoo's most famous paintings. My mom's really big on her paintings. I remember her showing me pictures of them. See the brunette next to her? That's Francine's daughter, she looks a lot like her mother did back then. They tip really well. Bet you're made for the week. Oh, crap, gotta go run my food." And the waitress bounces off, leaving Maria to turn back and watch the women for a minute longer as they continue to laugh and talk. Then she turns to go handle her other tables, a small smile on her face.

~fin~


End file.
